I'm Really Really Really Mad

I feel a little bit better having said it.

It’s an Animaniacs song. Takes the edge off it, right? I’m writing tonight for me, and I’m not throwing it to social but I am leaving it out there for people to find if they dig, because it’s my prerogative.



It’s been brought to my attention that I’m an angry person these days.I was like, “Nah, I’m not angry. Not most of the time. I’m only angry when there’s something to be angry about” and I dismissed it. But, I just spent some truly, truly quiet isolated time with just myself, no phone, no people, cats, house, radio, lights, power...and I think maybe I am angry. I think there is underlying anger there. And once I thought about it a little more (amazing what true silence and distraction-free zones will do for you, insert DUH WE TOLD YOU SO HERE) I think the only way for me to kinda...break free from it a little is not to keep it to myself anymore.



So. Here’s things I’m mad about. I’ll probably be vague about some and you (whoever you are) will have to deal with it and specific about others. And, while I’m feeling angry still, I”m going to put this caveat here: DO NOT MAKE THIS A BIG DEAL WITH ME. Okay?



If you see this post, and if you are like “woah, maybe she’s really messed up, I should probably butt in with my opinion of how much help she needs/why she’s wrong/you upset me cuz i think you’re talking about me” this is NOT for YOU. I’m not posting names, this isn’t a Mean Girls burn book, and I am not asking for anyone to armchair psychologist me. This is not a reason to call my mother and have a heartfelt talk with her about the horrible mental state of her daughter, and it’s not a reason to treat me differently. I’m putting it “out” here, partially because there’s relative low risk. If I don’t put it on Facebook or Twitter, it’s unlikely anyone who isn’t for some odd reason subscribed will see it, at least til much later, and then it’ll be...better? We hope?



There’s enough “out there” to make it feel like I’m not keeping it inside, with enough “no one is probably reading this” to make me bold enough to put it out there.



And I’m stalling.



SO:



I’m mad because....

Because someone hurt my mother, who was EVERYTHING to me. (She is, still, but like, everything WITH my husband, now.)

Because I had a person who at least semi-legally, was my father, who is totally, completely gone from me. And it is not my fault.

I’m mad because I was a secret.

I’m mad because I let myself be a secret.

I’m mad because I was in someone’s fan club when they were truly a best friend of mine.

I’m mad because I stayed in someone’s fan club, supporting them through really damn scary stuff, only for them to just not blink an eye when there was no contact.

I’m mad because I was ALWAYS the person to do alll the freaking contacting for every relationship all the time.

I’m mad because I laughed when people were like “we’d never get together if it wasn’t for you” when I really felt like being like “WHY?”

I’m mad because because I was mad about that, I’ve probably ruined some relationships I wish I wouldn’t have, since I generally just gave up on it, in cases I shouldn’t have. I made some new friends that now feel like missed chances because I just don’t follow up. And it bled into family stuff, and while some of my family doesn’t really reach out to me, I feel like there’s a lot of burden to bear there too.

I’m mad because I didn’t know about some of my more toxic qualities until way later than I should have figured it out, and I don’t know exactly what to do to fix that.



I’m mad because my hairdresser told me since I was 10 how excited for my wedding she was, and how she’d be there and do my hair, and wouldn’t it be great and lovely and wonderful, and what a joy it would be to meet my future husband. He would be so handsome and smart and amazing and it would be so awesome. Then, she ghosted me and my mom, didn’t show up to my shower, didn’t return any phone calls and to this day has more or less acted like I didn’t exist.



I’m mad because all the father figures in my life always went away. And one of the ones that I thought was the best, too, and who supported me through so much of my life, and who said, like the hairdresser, that he couldn’t wait to meet my future husband, and that he and his wife had a song to sing at my wedding, and who called me his daughter, had to work on my wedding day and couldn’t make it. Yeah, the wedding invites went out late, but something about that didn’t sit right with me. Or the people who actually love me. Or the people whose weddings he did show up to, who were skinnier and prettier and oh wait, who I introduced to them.



I’m mad because skinnier, prettier people are always so much more damn popular.

I’m mad that I let people (yes, people) tell me that I should understand why we weren’t together/dating/right for each other because “you’re not exactly a supermodel.”

I’m mad because I know that I still get marginalized because of my pants size by people that I work with or talk to and I know it’s happening but I pretend it isn’t.”

I'm mad because I taught myself I don't matter when I gave away everything I had to people who would just as soon never talk to me until it's convenient for them, and who NEVER gave of themselves what I did to them.



I’m mad because I don’t do enough.

I'm mad because I don't do enough for others now. Family, friends, husband, house. I don't do enough. Work. I could do more. I could do so much more, but i'm so ANGRY.



I’m mad because I still forget things ALL THE TIME.

I’m mad because I made so much effort to get organized and start doing better things for myself, and every time I try something awful happens.

I’m mad every time I lose something and someone in my house/family/friends cirlce laughs like “of course”

I’m mad because, guess what? I have ADHD. I just do.

I’m mad because some people will never believe that.

I’m mad because I have more anxiety now than I ever had.

I’m mad because I don’t now help the people I desperately wanted to help with their anxiety, instead, it just makes me anxious.

I’m mad I didn’t take my mom’s advice or learn from her better how to do chores and clean and run a house, because I’m overwhelmed now.

I’m mad because I am lazy.

I’m mad because I could do better.

I’m mad because I gave away a lot of myself.

I’m mad because I don’t feel like I can like the things I like without someone telling me why the hell I shouldn’t like it.



So here it is, all the stupid stuff I like: I like makeup. I like to wear it, I don’t care if it’s not healthy for my skin, or you don’t like it, you think it’s a waste of money. I like to travel. I like stupid tv shows, like stuff on HGTV, Teen Mom and whatever. Rot your brain or whatnot, sometimes I like that. I like any kind of artistic reality tv show, most of the time. I like taking baths. I like driving, especially alone at night in the summer with the windows down. I like to write. I love Chicago, all of it. I love Chicago so much that I daydream about what it would be like if I’d ever lived there. I love New Mexico, and I know I drove everyone nuts about that one, but the desert felt like a piece of me I didn’t know was missing. I like craft beer. I love photography. I love Doctor Who, and yes, I’ve only seen new Who even though I plan to change that. I love Star Trek. I love every single Marvel movie and I’ve said I didn’t before just to fit in. I just like them, canon or not canon. I like Buffy. I like Splatoon very much, and racing games, and I like Tetris. I like lots of sad solo player walking simulator games I hardly ever get to play. I like dancing games and videos. I used to love doing Darrin’s Dance Grooves and I would love to get my hands on Just Dance and do more Beat Saber, even though it embarasses me that I like it. I like to cook. I love the water. I love to swim, and I think, if anyone would get off my case about why that in particular is how I’d like to work out, that I’d work out a LOT if it was just in a damn pool. I like staying in hotels, even if the hotel is in Gurnee and it’s just for a night. I just like it. I love sushi and Thai food and spicy food.



I’m also mad because people insist i should check out/do/eat what they like, and never do the same for me.



I’m mad because I feel like I’ve tried really hard.

I’m mad because I know I haven’t tried hard enough.

I’m mad because I hurt the people I love.

I’m mad because I can’t stop being mad.

I’m mad because I’ve already ruined so much being mad.



I’m mad because I feel lonely.

I’m mad because I’m scared and stressed and lost sometimes.

I’m mad because I always feel like I’m playing catchup.

I’m mad because I don’t feel like stuff is mine sometimes, even though a lot of it is me not taking something and making it mine.

I’m mad because I feel like I don’t do the things that I want to do or like to do, and I can’t just say that I don’t want to do things or don’t like a thing. I know I should but I don’t or I can’t or I do and it’s later and I’m REALLY mad and then I blow up.

I’m mad that I have such a bad temper sometimes, and that I explode the way I do.

I’m mad that my body hates me, and that PMDD is a real thing, and that I have it.

I’m mad that there is so much terrible injustice in the world right now.

I’m mad that people don't’ treat people like people just because they don’t have a piece of paper that says they were born here.

I’m mad because an idiot is in the White House blowing up the country and people are worshipping him like he’s the Messiah.

I’m mad because a pedophile racist white supremacist narcissist dangerous terrifying uneducated entitled delusional wannabe dictator is in the White House.

I’m VERY angry that people I knew to be kind and good people support him--there is NO GOOD IN HIM.

I’m angry that I was fed lies my whole life.

I’m angry that the “Christian Right” that thinks we’re all being unfair to the aforementioned terror is the same “Christian Right” that shuns girls who break their chastity vows, or gay people, or people who got an earring (My stepfather almost lost his position in a Scouts-esque program because my BROTHER GOT AN EARRING) and drink and listen to *gasp* secular music, let a guy who’s like “Grab ‘em by the pussy, shithole country, send them back” and are like “you guys, God anointed him”



I’m mad when I see teachers who helped me learn kindness grace and dignity post memes on Facebook that show people in hijabs or keffiyeh and talk about how THEY hate America and THEY were responsible for 9/11 and THEY should leave when those teachers were the ones who went to MISSIONARY BANQUETS and talked about how the whole world was full of God’s people who HE LOVED EQUALLY and they’re okay with those people’s KIDS DYING IN CAGES.



I’m mad because I was too scared to post my wedding pictures because I didn’t feel like my body was good enough and now I feel like it’s too late.



I'm mad because whenever I type a thing like this that I really need to type there's a typo I don't catch til later and it makes me feel stupid.






I’m mad because I’m so damn mad.



And …I feel a little better now that I've said this.

My Girl

This is my girl. This was my girl. Full disclosure, I'm gonna cry my whole way through this post, but I also know I haven't written it yet but it needs to be written. You probably (if you know me on social media or IRL) know that Ana, my kitty road warrior and constant companion of 14 years, has been struggling for a month or two with very aggressive hyperthyroidism. If you're not sure what that's like, let's just say awful. They lose tons of weight, strength, lose their fur, get dehydrated...

The worst of it came when we discovered that in the space of 48 hours she'd lost the ability to jump up on the sink, and the aggressive hair loss came right along with it. We took her to the vet, they upped her dose, but in the end, even though the numbers came down, and even though we had her on meds, fluids, calorie supplements, and appetite stimulants, the tumor she had that caused HT (which is nearly always caused by a tumor, usually benign) was malignant (or it's suspected that's the case). Though she had been steadily improving she suddenly crashed. On Friday instead of her regular checkup, it was time to say goodbye to her. I knew it could be it, and I even thought she sorta "told" me the night before, but I was not remotely ready. She went peacefully, after I got to hold her for a solid half hour or 45 minutes while we did everything else we could to see if there was more we could do.

She was so so loved. She was so unique and beautiful.

Ana came to me via a friend, right after my cat Markie had passed--within the week. She was a surprise. At first, I didn't think I was ready. Markie was my first "very own pet." I was devastated to lose him so suddenly, and I didn't know if I could bond with a new pet so soon.

But Ana stole my heart. She was a screechy, fluffy, sassy spitfire from day one. She fell asleep trying to cross the room because she was tiny and four weeks old, but she also scaled our recliner to stick her face in cheesecake later that day--a feat we had no idea she was ready for.

Ana slept in bed with me like a teddy bear. She had a phase where she hung out in a fish bowl.

She moved from Illinois to New Mexico with me. It was a 24 hour road trip over two days, and my little road warrior sat shotgun, in a harness. She daintily used the litter box in the far back of my Jeep before I could even open it up, as if to say "I'm good, let's do this" and she didn't cry until she got to Texas (she just never liked Texas.)  When I got into the hotel in Oklahoma and cried my heart out because I had no idea what I'd just done moving all this way away from everyone, she crawled out from where she was hiding to come snuggle me.

If I was sick, she was there. She lived with Muffy and Spike in Los Alamos, and learned to be in a multiple cat household. Muffy used to sorta mother her while she was still young and silly. She lived in Socorro with a big silly Maine Coon named Rafiki, and picked a fight and got a notched ear, but eventually learned she couldn't be top dog everywhere. She moved BACK from New Mexico to Illinois with me, and lived in Deerfield. She moved back to Libertyville, too.

She started to be known as safety cat--she had a strong need for things to be safe for us. Don't go in that shower thing! that's WATER!!! The storm is crazy! You're making loud noises, is it safe?

When I had my sudden onset kidney infection alone, and was trying to sleep it off since I didn't know what it was, she was VIOLENTLY trying to wake me up and yell at me not to do that. She might even have saved my life with that. She did the same violent yelling when a wind shear hit our town. I was sleeping, home sick from work, and she wouldn't stop crying. I woke up just in time to see some branches fly by our window, scoop her up and run to the basement. She ALWAYS looked out for me.

When I worked three jobs and lived by myself and knew no one in the area, I'd come home from work, feet aching enough to make me cry, lonely as hell, and talk to her. I think that's when she learned to say "Wah?" which was a phrase she uttered often from then on. I'm pretty sure she was imitating me saying "what?" It was her favorite little phrase. When you talked, she'd say "WAH!" back, padding after you to talk more.

She got extra treats from my grandma, and table food when Mom wasn't looking and we all three lived together again. She got extra treats from Mom and table food when I wasn't looking.

She was camera shy and in lots of pictures was yawning, making it look like she was yelling all the time.

Once, she got in trouble with the cops. They were at our first apartment in Libertyville telling us about an adjacent building's problem with squatters, and the officer stopped and said "We have a petty thief, too!"

As he'd been talking to us about safety and the situation, he'd been watching Ana stuff hair ties, milk caps, pens and stuff into a stash we didn't know she had behind a heavy walnut desk my mom had. The officer helped us move back the desk, and we found...somewhere near 50 hair ties, pens, pencils, little caps she got from places, a few cat toys and various other small things.

Years later, she stole 25 dollars in cash AND a Christmas card meant for my cousin Mindy and stashed it in her new stash under a sofa. We didn't find it for months, and when we did it had nice little kitty cat chomp marks on it.

When I had E. coli, and was sick as hell for days, she was beside me. When I cried about boys or friends or anything, she was there, even though she wasn't always the cuddly type to anyone else or e even to me all the time.

She loved to snap her jaws at drips in the bathtub.

She LOVED cheese. Cheese pizza, cream cheese. After all, she'd chosen cheesecake to steal on her very first day with us, like I said. You could have all sorts of great table food but if there was no cheese, no deal. (Girl after my own heart)

She made another move in with me to Round Lake with my now husband. She REALLY loved him--and she hadn't liked nearly anyone as much as him, no matter how good of a friend they were to me. They bonded even closer when I left to visit my mom in Minnesota the first time after I moved there, and became besties. Sometimes I was even a little jealous of their relationship. If I woke up before him, she'd insist I let her back in to sleep on the bed next to him, instead of hanging out with me. If the other cats fought or if something unsafe was potentially happening, she was there.

In fact, she loved him so much, that when she slept in my arms like a teddy bear at night if he was next to me, she would reach out one paw to make sure she was touching him, too.

I know I've written a lot and I've told only a fraction of the Ana stories I could tell. She was a wonderful companion. The last month was so so hard. It was painful and time consuming and heartbreaking and stressful. But I would do that for ten more years just to have done right by her.

She's not my only pet--we have a whole family of them. But she certainly went through hell and back with me, had great adventures with me, and adapted to a lot of new situations, like a pro. She loved me and she loved the people I loved. I will always be grateful for the type of immense love and companionship she provided to me, every day.

It's still hard to see her stuff around, and see where the tent we used to help her recoup in was. It's hard when I realize it's 12:30 twice a day and that's her med time, and when I don't have a vet appointment for fluids anymore. It's hard to know she'll never sleep in my arms again, and we won't be taking any more road trips. I know what we did was the best thing for her, and I'm so grateful for the true tenderness that her vet Dr. Hart showed for her on her last day, and my husband right beside me. She was so fragile this past little bit I'd barely got to hold her, but on Friday, I held her for the better part of an hour, as close to my chest as possible. I held her every moment til her last, and I will never think of that as anything but a blessing, despite it wrecking me every time I think about it, say it or type it here.

She was a good, good girl.
Pets are family.
They're something more, too. They're unconditional love and support, without having to speak a word.

I loved you, Anastacia (Shaw) Bokor. I always always will.